


Gonna Pay for This

by Domeaspreadsheet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, I'm terrible at tagging please tell me if I missed something!, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, they kind of share that really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 19:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domeaspreadsheet/pseuds/Domeaspreadsheet
Summary: Harry,I do hope you had a fun night with Nick.That’s not what I would describe as “going to bed” but to each their own.Thomas Shelby would probably make someone sweat, so that’s what I intend to make you do - thank you for the inspiration.Hang this jacket up in our bedroom, where you can look at it for the next four days until I get home. Think of what I could do to you with that belt. You are not to come. I’ll cover the rest of your punishment when I get home. Text me a picture of the belt in your mouth so I know you understand.See you soon.Love,L





	Gonna Pay for This

**Author's Note:**

> The [photos](http://softgolfdaddy.tumblr.com/post/164181866401/thetomlinsondaily-louis-tomlinson-for) to blame for this. 
> 
> Thanks to [Sara](https://thekingisawoman.tumblr.com/) for letting me yell endlessly about this and also giving me something to run with, to [Molly](http://becomeawendybird.tumblr.com/) for being a great beta, and to [Tea](http://louisarsetattoo.tumblr.com/) for being a bombass cheerleader.

_*Beep*_

“Oh for fuck’s sake - Lou, I can’t _believe_ you didn’t let me see the proofs from the _Highsnobiety_ shoot. Making me wait for the publication date was _cruel_ , even for you. I’m staring at you in a goddamn leather jacket with that _belt_ looking like you could fuck anyone and everything up, and you’re on another _continent_. Between this, and that fucking Tommy Shelby haircut you had to go and get, I feel like I’m on fire. I hate you. And now your phone is dead or you’re asleep. Either way, you didn’t pick up. Which is fucking great, because again, I feel like I’m on FIRE. Whatever. I guess I’ll go to bed. I love you but I also hate you and think you’re a wanker. Bye.”

After what had happened with the _Noisey_ proofs Louis had decided it would be “fun” - _For who, exactly?_ \- to make Harry wait until the new _Highsnobiety_ article launched to see the photos. Unfortunately, this meant Louis was on promo tour in the States and Harry was in England starting to prep for his concert tour. He’d had a long day with the other Harry going through outfit options for tour and the promo shit he had going on before then. He hadn’t had a chance to look at the article and photos until he got home around 9, which was, of course, too early where Louis was for him to be awake yet. 

So here Harry was, alone in the kitchen - sitting on the same stool Louis had been sitting in when Harry had sucked him off after seeing the last round of photos - staring at more hot photos of his boyfriend. And Louis was always, always, hot. But it had been a while since he’d seen professional photos of him, much less ones that were just him. And yeah, they were all good, of course, but from each shoot there had been one photo that made Harry want to light himself on fire. Or quit his job to follow Louis around and cater to his every need. In this case, it was both of those things at once. 

He looks back at the screen. The photo was taken from a lower angle, so Louis was looking down at the camera, a look of something close to disdain on his face, wearing the hottest leather jacket Harry had ever seen. That _belt_. If Louis was, like, _home_ , Harry would be on his knees in an instant. Fuck. 

Harry groans, palming himself where he’s starting to get hard just from looking at his phone screen. He pushes back from the counter, planning to take a half cold shower and maybe - definitely - jack off when his phone rings. Nick’s picture flashes on-screen.

“Hey, Nick, what’s up?”

“Haroldddddd,” Nick sings in his ear. “Let’s go ‘round to the pub and get a drink before you get busy being an international heartthrob rockstar, yeah? I know Louis is out of the country, so you have no excuse. I’ll see you in an hour!”

He pauses for a second, thinking, “Yeah, okay. Text me the address, see you in a bit.”  
-

Louis wakes up to his alarm at 8:30am and groggily thumbs his phone open, eyes going straight to the voicemail notification. He listens to Harry get stroppy on the other side of an ocean, thankful he’ll be home in four days. Maybe he can sneak a break in between promo stops later today and they can have some quickie phone sex. He opens Twitter, scrolls for a few seconds, and immediately rethinks this entire plan. 

The pictures are low quality, but they don’t lie: it’s Harry and Nick, at some pub, having what looks like dinner. 

Now. Harry is allowed his friends and a life separate from Louis, especially given their industry and how much they travel. Hell, Louis loves Nick. But between the borderline rude voicemail and the lie - even if it had been unintentional - Louis isn’t feeling benevolent. He calls in a favor.

\- 

Harry wakes up around 9am, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back, only to be startled by the sound of the doorbell going off. He throws on a pair of joggers and heads to the door, hoping he won’t have to file yet another injunction against people trying to get on their property. 

It’s one of his assistant’s assistants - Alice, he thinks - looking apologetic and holding a rather large box. 

“Morning, Harry. I’m sorry, I know it’s early, but Louis wanted you to have this, sent explicit instructions.”

“S’fine, Alice, thank you. Want some tea? I just got up, but I can put the kettle on,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder. 

“No, I have to get going, but thank you. Have a nice day!” 

He carries the box to the kitchen and puts the kettle on to boil before opening the box. It’s the leather jacket Louis was wearing in the photo Harry had been going on about in the voicemail he left Louis last night, and there’s a card sitting on top of it that reads, _Check your email. -L._ He remembers he didn’t have a chance to look at his phone before answering the door and turns to go and retrieve it, taking the box with him.

He sits on the side of the bed, box beside him, and navigates to his email app, frowning slightly when he notices that Louis hasn’t texted or called. There is, however, an email from him with a subject line of “Instructions.” With a slight beat of apprehension, he opens it. 

_Harry._  
_I do hope you had a fun night with Nick._ Fuck.  
_That’s not what I would describe as “going to bed” but to each their own_. Double fuck.  
_Thomas Shelby would probably make someone sweat, so that’s what I intend to make you do - thank you for the inspiration._  
_Hang this jacket up in our bedroom, where you can look at it for the next four days until I get home. Think of what I could do to you with that belt. You are not to come. I’ll cover the rest of your punishment when I get home. Text me a picture of the belt in your mouth so I know you understand._  
_See you soon._  
_Love,_  
_L_

So. Harry had definitely, _definitely_ , fucked up. And he knows he could call Louis and safeword and explain what had happened if he doesn’t want to do this, but he’s also...incredibly turned on. He just doesn’t know whether to be happy or miserable that at least he’d gotten himself off in the shower before he went to bed last night. 

He carefully unthreads the belt from the jacket, and places the end between his teeth. He tilts his head back and opens the camera on his phone, adjusting slightly until he finds a good angle. Then he closes his eyes and takes it, sending it to Louis before he can chicken out. 

They’ve never played for this long before, and he’s nervous, but he trusts Louis, and that he’ll have a plan and will take care of Harry. Eventually. Fuck, he’s still _really_ turned on. 

His phone buzzes, and he looks down to see a photo Louis sent. Of his hand around his cock. And it’s captioned, “I’m going to enjoy getting off to that. See you soon.” Harry thinks he might combust on the spot. How in the _fuck_ is he supposed to make it four days?

-

It’s day three and he’s on the phone with Louis. 

“It’s just...I feel like I’m on fire, and it’s so intense and I’m never less than half hard. I’ve taken so many cold showers but it doesn’t help, so then I’m just _cold_ on top of _horny_ ,” Harry whines. 

“Harry, it’s _supposed_ to feel a little intense. You can find a better attitude or you can put a stop to this, those are your two options.” 

Chastised, Harry sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’ll be home tomorrow?” 

“I’ll be home tomorrow, love. I know you can do this for me. I’ll text you when I land, I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lou. Bye.”

He can do this. Probably. 

-  
It’s the evening of day four, the day Louis is _finally_ going to be home, and Harry is obsessively checking his phone every 30 seconds to make sure he doesn’t miss Louis’ text. His flight was supposed to land an hour ago, but maybe it had been delayed. He’s considering making some tea just for something to do when he feels his phone vibrate. 

_Home in fifteen. Want you naked and kneeling next to the chair - I think you know which one I mean. See you soon._

Harry rushes to put his clothes in the hamper in the laundry room and to settle himself next to the chair. He shivers remembering the last time he was next to this chair, and realizes he’s kind of nervous. He hasn’t seen Louis in a while, but he hopes the nerves will settle once Louis is in front of him. Or behind him. At this point he’s so hard he has no preference. 

He hears the door open and close, and adjusts his position slightly, bowing his head like Louis taught him. He’s so anxious he somehow misses Louis showing up a few feet in front of him. 

“Harry.”

He startles but manages to not pop his head up. He’s not sure what Louis has planned now that they’re together, but he wants to be good. 

“Look up.”

He does, to see Louis working the button open on his jeans, undoing the zipper enough to get his cock out, starting to jack it slowly. 

“Open your mouth and put your hands behind your back. Gonna use that mouth you’ve been using to get an attitude with me to get off. Give it something productive to do.” 

Harry complies, arousal swooping through him. 

Louis steps closer, and threads a hand into Harry’s hair, the other still working over his cock. “Tap my hip if you need me to stop. I don’t plan to go easy on you, but I know you can be good for me.” 

That’s all he gets before Louis is feeding his cock into his mouth, stopping only when he hits the back of Harry’s throat, pulling out and pushing right back in. Harry sputters, but focuses on opening his throat and trying to breathe through his nose. Louis sets a rough pace, using the hand in Harry’s hair to maintain even more control.

Harry’s cock is leaking, and he wishes he could get his hands on Louis’ ass because it’s been so long and he misses it but this...isn’t about him. 

Louis speeds up, hitting the back of Harry’s throat, pulling out, and immediately slamming back in, not giving Harry a second of recovery. Drool is running down Harry’s chin and he hasn’t drawn a full breath since they began, and he can feel himself start to slip a tiny bit. 

He feels Louis tighten his grip on his hair, and holds him in place while he shoots down Harry’s throat, his nose buried in the hair at the base of Louis’ cock. Louis finally steps back, removing his hand from Harry’s hair, cock slipping out of his mouth, and says, “That’s one. You owe me three more.”

Harry looks at him blankly. _What?_

“You look confused, so allow me to explain. You got stroppy with me in a _voicemail_ , then proceeded to _lie_ to me, whether it was intentional or not. Then I had to wait four _days_ to get my hands on you. So, I’ve decided: on top of the four days you’ve already waited and the rest of your punishment that we’ll get to soon enough, you also owe me one orgasm for every day _I_ had to wait. Then we’ll see about taking care of you. Understood?”

Harry swallows, feeling very overwhelmed, incredibly turned on, and very much like he wants to please Louis, even though this is harder than he’s ever been pushed before. “Yes.”

“Go to our room, lay over the side of the bed, arms in front of you, feet far enough back that you don’t have any friction on your cock; you have a long way to go. I’ll be in soon enough.” And at that, Louis turns and walks out, ass jiggling slightly in his tight black jeans. 

Harry watches him go, mouth watering a little bit, and gets to his feet a little unsteadily. He makes his way to their room and situates himself according to Louis’ instructions. If he looks up, he can see that fucking leather jacket hanging across the room, belt hanging from the loops. The _‘what I could do to you with that belt’_ line from Louis’ note runs through his mind and he whines a little at the thought. 

He hears the shower going in their en suite, then hears it shut off. He can tell Louis is puttering around, then hears him move into the bedroom, opening and closing drawers, but he’s out of Harry’s line of vision. Until he goes to the jacket, removing the belt. 

Harry closes his eyes, and tries to remember to breathe. He starts when he feels Louis caress his arse then immediately follow it with a sharp slap.  
“Put your arms behind your back.”

Harry does as told, and feels the belt get looped around them and pulled tight, so he can barely move them.

“Stop wiggling. I’m going to warm your arse up. Are you ready?’

“Yes.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just... _starts_. He’s on Harry with both hands, alternating between stinging slaps and pinches, even moving down to do the same to his upper thighs. Harry tries to relax into it, and succeeds at first, but after a few minutes he starts tensing up, trying to anticipate where the next bit of pain will fall. Louis breaks off to take his ass in both hands, squeezing and digging his fingertips in so hard Harry is sure the skin is white underneath them. He can’t decide if it would be better if they moved on to the belt or not, and lets a pained moan slip out. 

Louis smacks his ass again and leans down to murmur “You will take what I give you,” in his ear. 

“M’sorry,” Harry grits out. 

He feels the belt loosen from around his arms. 

“Don’t move your arms. If you do, I’ll find something else to restrain you with and add another ten to your count, do you understand?”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and answers with a quiet, “Yes.”

“You will count and thank me for each one. If you forget, I’ll add an extra two. If you try and cover yourself I will add ten. Let’s begin.”

That’s all the warning Harry gets before he feels the first sharp crack of the belt land on his left arse cheek. 

“One, thank you.”

Two through six land rapidly on alternating arse cheeks. “Two, three, four, five, six, thank you.”

Seven doesn’t come for a whole minute, and when it does, it lands on the top of his right thigh. “Seven, thank...you.”

Eight, nine, and ten land in the same place. He chokes out, “Eight, nine, ten, thank you.”

Harry can feel tears leaking out the corners of his eyes. 

Eleven lands on the top of his left thigh. “Thank you.”

Louis tuts. “Oh dear, an extra two,” and lands them in the same place as eleven. 

“Eleven, twelve, thirteen, thank you,” his mind fuzzy around the edges because this is a lot. 

Fourteen doesn’t come, Louis instead pausing to drag a finger down between his cheeks to prod lightly at his hole, and Harry struggles to hold in a whine at the contact. 

Fourteen through twenty land on his arse, Louis waiting at least 30 seconds between each hit to keep him guessing, but Harry counts and says thank you like he’s supposed to. 

“Two more, if you’re good,” is all he hears before the belt lands on the hardest hit yet. 

“Twenty-one, thank you,” he chokes out. 

Twenty-two lands the same way, and he counts and says “thank you” on a broken sob, mind starting to drift in earnest. 

Louis strokes up and down his back saying, “Stretch your arms out in front of you, did so well baby, m’so proud of you. Don’t move, I’m going to get some lotion for your bum.”

Harry sniffles while he’s waiting for Louis to come back, and then feels him lightly rubbing the lotion into his sore arse. 

“Are you ready to move on, or do you need a minute?”

Harry pauses. “M’ready, I think.”

Louis drags the cool belt buckle across his arse. “You think or you know?”

Harry gasps. “Ready, promise.”

“Better.”

Harry misses the _click_ of the lube cap and flinches, a whine slipping out, when he feels Louis spreading his cheeks to squeeze some in his crack.

Louis sighs. “Harry, you’re doing well, but I’m not going to listen to you whine about not being able to come while I use you, do you understand?”

“Yeah, m’sorry,” he breathes out. 

Louis spreads some lube over his cock, and then lines himself up to slide between Harry’s arse cheeks, squeezing Harry’s bum on the sides to get the friction he wants, which means his hands are digging into the already tender flesh. 

Harry moans, and immediately Louis has a hand in his hair pulling _hard_ , saying “Open your mouth.”

Harry does so in a daze, and the belt is suddenly in between his teeth. “Bite down on this, and I _promise_ that if I hear another sound out of you before I come for the second time you will regret it deeply.”

Harry nods, knows he needs to get it together, to be _good_. They’ve been apart for so long this is kind of like jumping into the deep end in total darkness not knowing if there are sharp rocks or sharks at the bottom. But he knows Louis is in control, will take care of him. 

Before his mind can run too far away from him, he feels Louis’ hands back on his arse, squeezing Harry’s cheeks together so he can slide his cock through the cleft of his arse. He’s brushing against Harry’s hole on every thrust, and Harry is definitely hard as fuck, but with no friction on his cock he can handle this. 

Then Louis starts talking. 

“Wish you could see yourself, baby. All spread out for me, letting me use you like this, even though I bet it hurts. Your arse is so pretty, all red from earlier.” As if to make his point, he squeezes a little harder than he has been, continuing to thrust. 

Harry turns his head on the bed, feels the belt buckle dig into his cheek. This might be how he dies, horny as fuck, talked into an early grave by his boyfriend’s mouth. 

“Bet you wanna come so bad, don’t you? Jerked off to that photo of you with the belt between your teeth every day, but it’s nothing like having the real thing in front of me. Maybe I should take some new ones, add to the collection. You feel so good, m’gonna come so hard.” 

Louis stops talking to groan, and Harry feels like he might combust. _How_ is he supposed to make it through two more rounds of this torture?

“You’re doing so well for me, I almost wish I could hear what noises you’d be making right now but there’ll be time for that later. Know you like it when I tell you to be quiet, gives you another way to be good for me.”

Harry wants to _die_ , and copes by turning his head back the other way and squeezing his eyes shut, like somehow maybe that will translate to his ears. Louis’ movements grow choppy behind him and Harry can feel Louis’ release get his crack wet, slicker than it was before. Louis slides through a few more times before he steps completely away and says, “Don’t move.”

Before Harry can really process any of what’s happened, he feels Louis drag a finger through the mess in his crack, and use it along with the lube from earlier to slide a finger into him. 

“Stay quiet for me. Wouldn’t want to have to add to how red your arse already is, would we?”

A second finger joins the first, and they gently scissor him open. Then, two things happen at once; Louis slides a plug into him while removing the belt from between his teeth and says, “I want to hear you now.”

Harry _moans_ and immediately starts babbling, begging. “Please, Lou, m’so hard, _please_. It’s been _days_ , and I’ve missed you so much, and I want to be good for you, I do, but what if maybe you just let me come and then spanked me some more to make up for it?” 

It’s all Louis can do to stay in character. They’ve talked about this, how Harry _likes_ to be pushed, knows they can stop playing, and that they’ll get off and cuddle and watch telly and be perfectly fine, but that’s not always the easiest thing to remember when his boyfriend is a rock-hard mess of need. 

He tries to adopt a steely tone. “Begging doesn’t become you. I know you can do this for me, Harry. That’s the only reason I’m asking it of you. Stand up for me, yeah? Climb up on the bed, lay on your side, that’s it.”

Louis helps him maneuver into a position where they’re spooning, Louis being careful to keep some space between Harry’s arse and his cock, and he keeps talking. 

“I know it’s a lot, and that it’s hard,” - Harry _giggles_ at that, so Louis thinks they’ll be okay - “but you also know we can stop at anytime, that it’s up to you, and that I’ll love you whichever we choose. But I won’t allow you to try and bargain with me, that’s not how this works. So think carefully about what you say next.”

After a few moments Harry says, quietly, “I wanna - I wanna keep going.” 

“I won’t be any easier on you, I had a long flight to plan this. But I know you can do it. You’re my good boy.” He kisses the top of Harry’s head, and before they can get up to actually get ready for bed, they both fall asleep, legs entangled. 

-  
Louis has no idea how long he’s been asleep, just knows that at some point they must have rolled over, because Harry’s cock is digging into his spine with every thrust of his hips. That, coupled with the whining, must be what woke him up. 

“Harry,” Louis hisses, rolling over to look at Harry. 

Harry stills, then whispers, “I just want you so bad, Lou, oh god, I was asleep, it just happened-”

Louis cuts him off. “Well, we’re awake now. Roll onto your back and hold on to the headboard.” 

He leans across Harry to get lube out of the bedside drawer, purposefully grazing his hard cock while doing so. 

Louis spreads lube over over two fingers on his right hand, and pets around where the base of the plug is nestled between Harry’s cheeks, unable to resist fucking it in and out a little, left hand squeezing the base of Harry’s cock firmly. Harry moans and tries to fuck his hips up. 

“Make all the noise you want, you’re not getting off yet. Do you need the ring?”

“I- yeah, yes, please,” Harry mumbles. 

He’d grabbed the cock ring when he went for the lube, figuring Harry would need it. Louis gets it onto Harry, immediately sucking the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth. Harry whimpers and turns his head, biting the inside of his bicep. 

Louis pulls off with a pop, and pulls the plug out, immediately replacing it with three of his fingers that are covered in lube. He can’t resist rubbing over Harry’s prostate a few times, just to hear the noises he makes, but he’s not cruel. Well. Not _that_ cruel. He backs off the prostate simulation and focuses on opening Harry the rest of the way, scissoring his fingers, Harry whispering to himself. 

“Harry, are you...reciting song lyrics backwards?” Louis asks, rubbing back over Harry’s prostate.

“Jesus fuck, Lou, yes, I’m reciting song lyrics backwards, do you know what you’re doing to me right now?”  
Louis smacks the inside of his thigh, while getting on his knees between Harry’s legs. “Language. And yes, I’m actually fully aware I’ve got three fingers buried in your arse, because I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to lay there and take it.”

Louis lines himself up and slides in, not stopping until he’s bottomed out. 

Harry stops talking until Louis pulls out and slams right back in, then immediately resumes his concentrated whispering. “Mind his changed he’s now but free being about sing to used.”

Louis laughs. “You _would_ pick that song, you nympho.” 

Harry just makes a pained-sounding snort and keeps going. Louis sets a pace that he knows will have him coming soon. He doesn’t want to actually kill Harry with everything he’s asking of him, and he’d like to go back to sleep soon. Sue him, jet lag can be a _bitch_. 

He’s grazing Harry’s prostate on about every other thrust, and can’t keep himself from from wrapping a hand around Harry’s cock, dragging over it in time with the movement of his hips. 

Harry has been quiet for a few minutes, but suddenly says, “Yellow, Lou, yellow, gonna come-”

Louis pulls out immediately and removes his hand from Harry’s cock. “You did so well telling me that, baby, thank you, so proud of you.”

Harry’s chest is heaving, holding so tightly to the headboard that the veins in his arms are in sharp relief in the moonlight coming through the window. 

After about thirty seconds he breathes out, “You can - you can keep going, m’good now, promise.” 

Louis gives him a long look but eventually nods and lines himself back up at Harry’s entrance. They’re both close, but he knows Harry wants to make it to the end, would have called this off long before now if he didn’t. 

Harry’s breath hitches when Louis bottoms out, but he doesn’t resume his backwards lyricism, just closes his eyes and keeps his grip on the headboard. Louis grips his hips and starts talking again. 

“You’ve been so good, think I’ll let you choose. Should I come inside you, plug you back up, make you keep it inside? Or should I come on your laurels, make you dirty like you like?”

Harry groans before saying, “On me, Lou, come on me.”

That’s all the encouragement Louis needs, pulling out and working a fist over himself once, twice, before he’s coming on Harry’s stomach, come covering his laurel and butterfly tattoos. Louis traces a finger over a laurel, making Harry shiver. “That’s three. Stretch your arms out, baby, did so well for me. I’m gonna get something to clean you up with, be right back.”

Louis returns from the en suite with a warm flannel and a glass of water to see Harry in exactly the same position he left him in. He sits the glass on the table, and runs the cloth over Harry’s stomach to clean him off, throwing it on the floor when he’s finished. 

“Baby, honey, I need you to move your arms okay, let go of the headboard. That’s it,” Louis says, while helping Harry to sit up a little. He hands him the glass, helping him hold it to his lips. “Drink this, you need it.” 

He helps Harry finish the glass, and puts it aside. “Are you ready to go back to sleep? You’re doing so well, we’re almost there, I’m so proud of you. Can you answer me? Need to know you’re if you’re okay or if you’re just floaty.”

Harry hums. “M’just floaty, and kinda sleepy, and _really_ fucking horny.”

Louis laughs. “In that case, budge over so I can get in bed, we’re going back to sleep.”

-

Louis wakes to two things: the sun streaming in the window, and Harry’s lips wrapped around his cock, chin wet with spit, bobbing like his life depends on it.

“H,” he says, sternly. “ _What_ do you think you’re doing?”

Harry pops off and has the decency to try and look somewhat abashed. “Wanted to wake you up with a treat.” He tries to duck back down, but Louis stops him with a foot to his chest. 

“Don’t be greedy, Harry. You thought you’d breeze through the last orgasm you owe me while I was still asleep. Do I need to remind you who’s in charge here? Get the belt back out, make you wait even longer?”

Harry looks like he might cry. “No, _no_ , just wanted to be nice, I promise, _promise_.” 

Louis hums. “We both know I don’t believe that. Go put the kettle on before I change my mind about punishing you.”

Harry scrambles off the bed, and Louis watches his bare arse disappear through the door.  
There’s no way he’s going to draw this out any longer than he has already, but Harry doesn’t need to know that. Louis is so _proud_ of him, he’s handled this so well, despite Louis pushing him so hard. 

He gives Harry a minute’s head start, before grabbing three things out of the bedside table and making his way to the kitchen, where he finds Harry staring at the kettle like he can will it to boil through sheer force of stare. 

“Harry,” he starts, watching Harry visibly startle but not turn around. He must have been quieter than he thought walking in. “You know what they say, a watched pot never boils. Turn around.”

Harry turns, eyes dropping to look at what Louis has laid out on the counter. 

“You have until the whistle goes off on the kettle to put the plug in, brought you some lube. I suggest working quickly, you know that eye runs hot.” 

Harry reaches a hand out for the lube, looking at Louis like he expects him to add something else, but he only raises an eyebrow in his direction, challenging Harry to not do as told. 

Harry blushes furiously while he carefully squirts some lube onto his fingers. 

“Why don’t you lean over the island, let me see?” Louis says, tone clear it's not actually a suggestion. 

Harry does, flush spreading down his chest as he bends over, left elbow propped on the counter while he stretches his right hand behind him to carefully brush around his hole, spreading the lube, before pushing the tip of his middle finger in. He works it in and out a couple of times before adding a second, still a little loose from where he'd had a plug in yesterday. 

This one is bigger, will brush against his prostate once it's in, and it also vibrates. He assumes Louis has the remote control in the pocket of the joggers he's thrown on. 

He can hear the kettle start to make more noise behind him, so he speeds up his actions a little, adding a third finger for a few seconds before removing all of them and coating the plug with lube. He's just gotten it all the way in when the kettle starts whistling. 

“You're really living on the edge today, aren't you? Pun intended. You've really rubbed off on me.” 

Harry groans, turning toward the sink to wash his hands. 

Louis tuts at him. “Don't remember telling you to clean up. Sit down, I'll fix us a cuppa.”

Harry has just finished carefully arranging himself on a stool to find an angle with not a lot of pressure, when the plug buzzes to life for several seconds before shutting off again.

Harry’s honestly unsure of how he's lasted this long. Louis will be the death of him one day, he's sure of it. All in all, not the worst way to go, probably, though preferably they both die after an incredible simultaneous orgasm on their 90th wedding anniversary. 

Before he can think about that any longer, Louis is standing next to him, sliding a mug in front of him. Harry reaches to pick it up with the non-lube hand, but the second he lifts it off the counter, the plug buzzes back to life, causing tea to slosh over the side. The plug falls silent. 

Louis heaves an exaggerated sigh. “So messy today, baby, what am I going to do with you?” 

“Sorry,” he whispers, unable to lift his gaze to meet Louis’. 

“Hmmm. Well, you're already dirty. I brought down a dildo earlier, I'm sure you noticed. I'd like to get fucked, but I'm not sure you're up to it - wouldn't want you to fail this late in the game.” 

Harry swallows, unsure if he should feel ashamed or relieved that Louis knows him so well. He'd last all of three seconds inside Louis, and that's a generous estimate. 

Louis stands and shimmies his joggers off, letting them land in a pile on the floor. He bends over the island, hands braced in front of him, one curled around the remote to the plug. 

After a few seconds, he says, “Harry, it's not going to happen on its own.” 

Harry stands, and shakily adds more lube to the fingers that are still sticky from earlier. Running his left hand down Louis’ back, he rubs over Louis’ hole, carefully breaching him with a single finger. 

As soon as he does, the plug buzzes inside him. _Fuck_. 

He slides his fingers in and out a few times, Louis relaxing enough to allow him to add a second. When he does, the plug is bumped up to the next setting. He thinks it has at least ten, but they've never used all of them. Focusing on breathing, he scissors his fingers and adds a third, and, predictably, the buzzing increases again. 

Once Louis is stretched enough to take the dildo, he removes his fingers, and the plug shuts off completely. He drags out the process of coating the purple glitter silicone cock in lube so he can have a minute to get it together before Louis starts it back up on him. 

He inserts the tip and Louis, who so far has been fairly quiet, lets out a soft moan. Surprisingly, the plug stays off. 

Harry works the dildo in and out until the base is almost settled at Louis’ entrance, but with enough space for him to still keep ahold of it. He stills for a moment to let Louis adjust to the sensation. 

Of course, Louis chooses that moment to talk. 

“Bet you wish it was you in me, don't you, baby? Know it would be so tight, and warm, and it would feel so good for both of us. But this will have to do for now.” He pushes his hips back. “Oh, and. Make me come, and I'll let you fuck me, right here.”

With that, the plug buzzes back on, stronger than before. 

Well. At least Harry has an objective. Louis didn't tell him not to, so he loops his left hand around to get it around Louis’ cock, working his hands in tandem. 

He changes the angle of the dildo slightly, and Louis moans loudly, so Harry knows he found his prostate. 

Harry makes sure to hit it on every thrust of the dildo, twisting his hand around the tip of Louis’ cock at the same time, using the precum to ease the glide. He wishes he’d had the foresight to get some lube on that hand as well but there’s no way he’s stopping now.

Louis’ breath is heavy, breaking off into short pants interspersed with little high pitched keens, and he turns the intensity up on the plug. Harry grunts, and doubles down on his efforts. 

He knows Louis is close, the hand that’s not holding the remote is opening and closing on every thrust, and he’s started rocking his hips back onto the dildo and forward into Harry’s hand. He leans forward and licks a stripe up the shell of Louis’ left ear, breathing lightly into it. 

“You sound so hot, Lou. Does this feel good? Am I doing a good job for you?”

Louis doesn’t answer, just ups the intensity on the plug. Harry is..so close, but he’s in this, he can do this. 

He rocks the dildo directly on top of Louis’ prostate, and works the hand that’s on Louis’ cock a little tighter and faster, hoping -  
Louis shouts, and Harry feels his come spill over his hand. 

“Fuck me, Harry, fuck!”

Harry pulls the dildo out, letting it drop to the floor, and immediately pushes inside Louis, not stopping until he’s bottomed out. He grips Louis’ hips, left hand slipping a little, and pulls out before slamming back in. 

“That’s it, baby, you gonna come for me? You’ve earned it, been so fucking good for me, fuck.”

Louis turns the plug up another notch, and Harry thrusts all of three times before he’s coming so hard his vision whites out. 

He feels like he comes forever, rocking into Louis, the plug pulsing right up against his spot while he’s buried in Louis’ heat that he’s been missing for days. He might be screaming, he’s not exactly sure. 

“Lou, Lou, turn it off, s’too much, too- much-” Harry pants, as he collapses on Louis’ back, both of them folded over the top of the island. 

The plug turns off immediately, and Louis turns his head to press kisses onto the part of Harry’s face his lips can reach. 

“Did so well, baby, my god, I love you so much, you’re perfect.”

Harry hums happily, incapable of speech, feeling like he’s on another plane of existence. 

He’s not sure how long they stay there, but eventually Louis is urging him to stand up so he can slip out from under him, being sure to keep a hand on him to make sure he doesn’t fall over. 

“Here, baby, let me take your plug out, can’t believe how incredible you are.”

Harry winces when he feels it slip past his rim. 

“Do you want to sit down? Take a bath? Float for a while? Sleep?”

“Bath. Float.”

“Okay, come on, let me help you.” 

Louis guides him down the hallway, through the door of their bedroom, into the en suite.  
He fiddles with the water temperature and throws in one of Harry’s favorite bath bombs. His tasks are made harder due to the fact that Harry is glued to him like a koala. 

Once he’s satisfied, he helps Harry into the tub.  
Harry sighs happily and settles himself, eyes closed and head propped against the side of their giant whirlpool tub. 

“I’ll be right back, baby, gonna get us some tea okay? Want a snack?”

“No, Lou, but come back, I’ve missed you.” 

Louis rushes to the kitchen, throwing the kettle back on and dumping the dildo and plug into the sink to deal with later. Thank god they live alone. He runs a Clorox wipe over the counter, and tosses it in the trash right as the kettle whistles. Putting a banana under his arm, he fixes two cups of tea and is back down the hallway less than five minutes later. 

Harry is still in the tub, looking blissed out. 

“Here you go, baby. It might need to cool a minute. And I brought you a banana, I’ll help you eat it soon.”

“Thanks, Lou. You’re the best. You’re like...evil. But a good kind of evil. M’probably gonna get a boner every time I think of Thomas Shelby now, though. You can explain that one to Cillian if the Oscar parties get weird.”

Louis is in love with an idiot. 

He sits on the edge of the tub, feet in the water, and gently runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, scratching his scalp like he knows Harry likes, knows Harry needs the contact after playing for so long. 

He talks, just to give Harry something to hold on to if he needs it. Stories from the radio tour he’s been on, about how proud he is of Harry, about how he can’t wait to spend the next two days together, not leaving the house. 

Harry stays in the tub until the water is cold, and they move to the couch, snuggling under a blanket, watching some rom com Louis can’t remember the name of. 

He’s so happy to be home, and hopes the gift he’s had commissioned for Harry will arrive soon. A collar that’s an exact replica of the belt from the jacket, just smaller. Harry will love it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you 
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](http://softgolfdaddy.tumblr.com/), I don't bite!


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